


I-don't-know-comment-help-me-think-of-a-title-please-and-thank-you (being kind of postponed--sorry)

by mustard_squid (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Dean's in a bad mood, Everyone Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, F/M, Gabriel Ships It, Kind of College (Dean), Kind of High School (Castiel), M/M, Minor if any Sabriel, Sam Ships It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-18 15:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2353784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/mustard_squid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel's parents own a coffee shop, having bought it when he was six.</p><p>Dean Winchester's in a perpetually bad mood for all of November because of an accident that happened sixteen years ago.</p><p>Can Castiel finally get Dean out of his funk for something that wasn't his fault? Will Gabriel gain like a million pounds because of the shit-ton of candy he eats (probably not)? Can Castiel finally use the eighty-something paint chips his mother collects?</p><p>Read to find out.</p><p>(This is gonna be postponed for a while--apologies, friends)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [All of my wonderful readers...let's hope this makes up for Winchester's.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=All+of+my+wonderful+readers...let%27s+hope+this+makes+up+for+Winchester%27s.).



> Seriously, I don't have a title for this fucker so if you guys would be dears and comment good titles? Please and thank you. Also, the story starts in November 2013, and then catches up to real time to make it a bit easier on me. If you guys want any more AUs, comment. Read and kudos, please.
> 
> Every time I get a kudos, Gabriel gets candy, and Dean gets pie. Sammy gets his salad...and Cassie gets his bees.
> 
> So please, do Team Free Will (and Gabriel) a favor. Thanks!
> 
> This should update every Friday, and I was supposed to post this Friday, but I got too excited for you guys to read it.

Castiel doodled a little stick person in the corner of his chemistry hand-out as he waited for a few more customers to grace the hole-in-the-wall café that his parents owned. He worked at the counter most days, not having a clue as to how to make the complex coffees that the place offered. Castiel’s other jobs around the café included reshelving the books that insensitive customers left on tables, more often than not covered in coffee stains. The large bookshelves stretched up to touch the ceiling, with those rolling ladders to get the books at the top.

Castiel was normally the person to go up the ladder, as he was really the only person in his family not affected by heights, which was saying something considering the size of the Novak clan. The small army that his mother raised included him, the youngest; Gabriel, who was ten months older than him; Balthazar, who was three years older; and the twins, Michael and Lucifer. The latter really lived up to his name, his co-conspirator being Gabriel. Gabriel played more fun than cruel pranks, but the really-minor ones were the only pranks to touch the café. Any more than that, and Gabe’d probably be disowned.

He’d just finished the crudely-drawn dragon spitting miniature flames at the stick warriors when the bell stationed above the door alerted him. Two boys walked in, brushing the small bit of snow off their shoulders and taking off their jackets. The younger-looking one, who was quickly catching up to what looked like his brother, said something to the other. They sat together at a small table in the back, the younger looking at all the books with a small look of wonder on his face. Castiel normally felt the same, but accompanied by a small swell of pride because he’d been the one to collect most of the books there, from the age of six, when his parents had bought the café, to eighteen.

The older one was sitting at the table still, a look of pure frustration and anger on his face, but was studying the framed pictures on the opposite wall. Those had been taken over the years, mainly featuring the Novak family and their various members, but some candids of their regulars who’d agreed to have their pictures taken. Balthazar was continuing his photography major at the University of Kansas, and so the pictures looked professional. His mother’s favorite was the one of six-year-old Castiel, who’d been small for as long as he could remember, standing on a tall stack of books resting on a wooden crate, pudgy hands holding a small wad of bills, and a seven-year-old Gabriel in the background giving the person their coffee.

“Hey, could I just have a black coffee and a...chocolate chip muffin? Thanks.” The younger boy had wandered over to the counter, and now was studying the menu closely. Castiel found him to be a great drawing subject, but not quite as pretty as his brother. He felt that those green eyes were staring into his soul.“Uh...Casteel?”

Castiel looked back at the younger ones, silently cursing his name choice. That, plus his almost-illegible cursive scrawl made people get his name wrong all the time. “It’s Castiel,” he corrected casually, “and it’s okay, people get it wrong all the time. And it was black coffee, chocolate chip muffin?”

“Yup.”

“Alright. It’ll be right here, so you might wanna sit down.”

“Cool. It’s for Dean, if you’re asking. He’s over there, and he’d better not throw it away.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder to point to the green-eyed Dean. “And if Dean’s not there, I’m Sam.” Sam peered down his nose to look at Castiel’s paper. “Oh, you’ve got Davis for honors chemistry? That paper took me forever, but it looks like you’ve got it done.”

“Uh, yeah. Here, I’ll be right back.” Sam handed Castiel the money, and slid back into his seat across Dean, and the two of them engaged in what looked like a heated argument, but whispered. Castiel left his station at the register to go fill their mugs, all of which were handmade by Anna-Cas’ mother-and the rest of the family. Sometimes, their favorite regulars, who were mostly artsy types, donated to the couple cabinets filled with mugs.

Castiel took a quick guess that since Dean was in a bad mood, a happy-go-lucky mug wouldn’t help that much if he was as stubborn as he looked. A simple white one with engraved words in other languages that Cas’d made a year or so ago sufficed, and was filled to the brim with coffee. Snagging a muffin and wrapping it in a napkin, Castiel gently put the coffee and muffin in front of Dean, who was sitting alone again.

Dean said nothing but shot a glare towards Sam, who was holed up in Castiel’s favorite part of the café, a corner that was blocked off by overstuffed couches and chairs, with a small entrance for people to get in. “Thanks, but you should probably go give this to Sammy. I don’t need it.” It was a gruff voice, with a hint of tears that squeezed Cas’ heart.

“I really don’t know, Sam said that you’d better not not eat it.”

“Well, Sam doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Here. He’s already paid and everything. Why don’t you just eat it?” The argument was pointless, but Castiel was really stubborn, one of his best and worst qualities. Dean crossed his arms and looked away again, and this time Castiel took the hint and left.

Castiel was back behind the counter again, keeping an eye on Dean and Sam, who was engrossed in a book that Castiel had probably enjoyed, long legs tucked under him in Castiel’s favorite spot, on the worn leather sofa underneath the light that Gabriel called ‘the death lamp’ after a serious misunderstanding. Castiel put his chemistry paper away, pulling out the Chromebook that he’d saved up for for ages. A few clicks later, and Castiel was back on the document that he hoped to call a novel.

Being a senior in high school, the document probably wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. He really needed someone else to critique it, as it couldn’t really go on the good websites filled with people, as it wasn’t any form of fanfiction, though he’d written (and read) plenty of those. So many, in fact, that when Gabriel had emailed him hardcore porn stories, Castiel had hardly even blinked.

Speaking of Gabriel, he was currently holding a water balloon over his best friend, Zachariah’s head. The two were thick as thieves, always playing pranks on eachother, or the bigger ones working together. Gabriel was leaning over with the full grace of a ballerina on the top step of the ladder, one hand clutching the rail tightly, the other holding the end of an overly-full balloon.

“Gabriel!” Castiel didn’t mean to scare Gabe, just wanted to call him off in case any after-splash got on others. Gabriel’s hand jerked, sending the balloon flying...straight onto the head of a very disgruntled Sam Winchester. Since Sam was quite a large person, it hit more of him than the book, which Castiel was grateful for. (Was that a bad thing?) Castiel clapped a hand over his mouth, shutting the laptop and sliding off his stool in one fluid motion. He hurried over to a dripping Sam, who’d settled his features into an perfect bitchface.

“Sorry, kiddo.” Gabriel hopped off the middle of the ladder, landing on his ass right next to Sam. It had taken years of practice, and a broken wrist of Castiel’s, but the move had been perfected. Sam jumped, and Gabriel grinned. “That wasn’t meant for you.” Relieved that Gabriel was sorting things out, Castiel looked over towards where Dean had been sitting. The coffee and muffin were gone, and the table appeared to be swept of all the crumbs Dean might have left, although Gabriel did that anyway.

Looking over, Castiel discovered that Sam’s face was now a bright red, presumably because Gabriel was flirting with him. Castiel rolled his eyes and pushed behind the counter again, climbing on his stool. Pulling open his laptop again, he quickly typed something into Google Chrome that made him grin largely. The fiftieth anniversary of his favorite show, Doctor Who, was airing in about twenty-two days.

Sam looked ready to run a few minutes later, so Castiel decided to do him a favor and dragged Gabriel into the kitchen, muttering something about more chocolate-chip muffins that needed to be made, or something along the lines of that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something happens, thanks to Gabriel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, please, comment titles because I'm drawing a blank here. Also, just in case you were wondering, Anna and Chuck are Cas' parents. I'm thinking of doing a Superwholock Hogwarts AU, because why the hell not. So, fellow assbutts, if you want an AU or a oneshot, lemme know. No smut, please, because I can't write it to save my life.

The Winchesters came back again the next day, this time each of them in a worse mood than they’d been their previous visit. Castiel was in the back this time, washing mugs while dancing around to whatever music Gabriel’d put on, which changed quite often. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something lobbed in his direction. Castiel ducked, and a plastic water bottle landed in the large sink.

“Can ya wash that for me?” Gabe called from where he was taking shifts at the counter. Business was a bit faster than the café’s usual pace on Saturdays, and Castiel wasn’t fond of dealing with larger-than-small crowds all at one time, so Gabriel sat up front. “Thanks, Cassie.”

Gabriel’s usual nicknames for him were Cassie, squirt, baby bro, etc. Whatever embarrassing older brothers called their annoyed younger siblings, Gabe knew, and called him that. It was highly annoying, but a little affectionate in the dysfunctional way their family worked.

Rolling his eyes, Castiel washed the water bottle with great difficulty. The inside was coated with a strange, sugary liquid that Castiel quickly identified as grape Kool-Aid with about five times the amount of normal sugar. But the taste was rancid, not sweet, and Castiel guessed that Gabriel’d let it sit for a week. Regretting the choice to swipe a finger in the goo, Castiel set the water bottle to the side to let it soak for a good hour or so.

“Squirt! We need a black coffee and a chocolate-chip muffin!” Castiel tossed the muffin-not really a sanitary habit, but he could trust Gabe’s hands were clean-and carefully carried a steaming cup over, and looked up to meet the scowling face of Dean Winchester. Castiel must have jumped, because a little of the scalding coffee spilled onto his hand, but he ignored it.

He handed the mug over carefully, hoping his voice wouldn’t shake. Castiel was mentally punching himself for being nervous around a guy he’d only known for officially about a day now, only having spoken and seen him for a good half-hour. “Careful, it’s hot,” Castiel muttered absent-mindedly, wiping his burned hand with his apron to get any remaining traces of coffee off.

Castiel stationed himself behind his sink again, unaware that Gabriel was creeping up behind him. “Caaaaaaaassie.” Castiel’s shoulders dropped as he tilted his head back in annoyance.

“What?”

“What was that? You nearly spilled your coffee over the kid. You never spill coffee, squirt.”

“I’m aware of that, Gabriel. It was an accident.”

He turned around to face his older brother, whose mouth had made a little ‘o’. Castiel could see the wheels turning in his head, and the ‘o’ didn’t last long, as it split into a wide grin.

“Cassie’s got a crush!” Gabriel crowed, and started to dance around. Castiel felt his face turn the red of the comfy chair that he often sat in, and felt it get to about the heat of the coffee he’d burned himself with. His mouth began to form incoherent words, until Castiel managed to spit one out.

“No-”

“Yes you do! Yes. You. Do! Cassie’s got a crush!” Castiel hoped to whatever god was out there that Gabriel kept his voice down.

“Fine. Shut up. Okay, please, Gabriel? Let me work this one out.”

Gabriel made a rarely-seen solemn face, and nodded. Then he grinned again. “Dude, Dean’s a total womanizer. I hope you can break him from his streak, squirt. But whatever you do, don’t be just another notch on his bedpost. Brotherly advice.” Castiel’s face heated up again.

Gabriel hopped up on the stool again, pulling Castiel’s laptop from his bag. Castiel rolled his eyes and turned back to the almost-finished stack of dishes, thinking of possible ways to win over Dean. A note? Get his number? But he wasn’t a senior in high school, Castiel knew that. So he must be older, and the problem was Castiel didn’t know how much older.

Dean. He was gorgeous, and Castiel could tell he didn’t try too much. Dark blond hair spiked every which way, growing to white-blond at the tips, as if he’d just come from working outside and it was sun-bleached, even though it was November. Green eyes that were hazel and green and brown and grey all smashed together intrigued Castiel, and they were still pretty even though they held a caged look of anger.

His legs were slightly bowed, and Castiel noticed that they looked perfectly muscled and-Castiel should just stop right there. Having stupid crushes on an older guy that he didn’t even know was really something Castiel was experienced in, or maybe he was just a bit too deprived of non-familial love. So he jumped in headfirst every time, and it almost always ended badly.

Castiel didn’t know what to do, so he resorted to creepy staring while finishing up the dishes. Gabriel was watching him intently, and Castiel’s brotherly instincts told him that Gabriel was silently egging him on to do something. Castiel couldn’t do anything, anyway, because he had spoken to Dean once and wasn’t entirely sure that Dean knew his name.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Castiel complained. Now he was sitting next to Gabriel while his mother and father finished arguing lightly over what color they should paint the café walls, so they could leave. Castiel swung his feet up so they were resting in Gabriel’s lap, who was digging into a rather suspicious unmarked box of candy.

“It’s a good thing I may have done something for you.” Gabriel muttered.

“Gabriel. What did you do this time?”

“I may have put your phone number on his napkin. And your name. I hope he doesn’t think I’m you, because I’d rather his moose of a brother.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, again! Did nobody like the last chapter? So, um, Dean's got Cassie's number. Read on, Mishamigos.

After finding out about the fact that Gabriel just gave Dean Castiel’s number, a good freak-out was in session. Castiel was pacing back and forth, tossing a lumpy, homemade pillow at Gabriel when he started to tease. Dean hadn’t contacted him yet, which he assumed to be a bad thing, unless it was good? Castiel had never done this kind of thing before.

Castiel felt like crying. No. He felt like throwing up. No, he felt like channeling that inner strength everyone says you have and punching Gabriel in the dick. And then he’d send Gabe to the best healing facility on the planet because Dean just texted him.

 

**Is this Castiel?**

_Hello, Dean._

**So, um, why’d you give me your number?**

_That was not me. My brother, Gabriel, was the one who did that._

**Oh. So why’d he do that?**

_Any reason that any annoying older brother does. To simply make my life just a bit harder._

**Oh. I see. So, he wrote ‘Ask me out’ on the napkin. Mean anything to you?**

_Oh, I am so kicking my brother’s butt._

**Why?**

_Because he’s assuming I like you. Like he assumed...never mind._

**Let me guess, Gabriel’s gotten you into some stupid shit?**

_You have no idea._

**Hey, is the café open on Sundays? Sammy wants to know.**

_Yes, Dean, it opens at one._

**Thanks.**

 

Dean didn’t respond after that, which made Castiel freak out all over again. Gabriel had whooped when Castiel told him that Dean texted, claiming he had done Cas a favor. Now, Gabriel was nursing a bruise where Castiel had kicked him in the shin, still a little angry.

Castiel contemplated writing something for Dean, because he wouldn’t be there Sunday and obviously Dean was going to be.

No. He can’t write a note because then he’ll look desperate and Dean barely knows who he is. It’s gotta be something else. But Castiel can’t exactly contact Dean other than texting, and Dean didn’t ask if he was going to be there, so why should he say so?

This was confusing. Castiel started to pace around he and Gabriel’s shared bedroom again when there was a knock on the already-open door.

“Squirt, dinner’s ready. And Mom’s worried about you ‘cause you’ve spent the last two hours up here.”

Shit. Two hours? Castiel had a lot of homework, and then a few extra-credit project just to get those extra points. And it was Saturday, which meant that he had approximately...three hours to cram everything. It was six o’ clock right now, and knowing his mother, he’d escape dinner at 7:30. Then he’d have to get everything out, and make a few trips to the local Walgreens to get posterboard and other items needed. So, 8:15, and then his mother would make him stop working at 11:30 or midnight.

Then he’d need to sleep, and then Sunday morning would be church, more cramming, and family dinner at his grandmother’s-who lived an hour away. And she’d pinch his and Gabriel’s cheeks and reprimand his mother for having them too close together when Gabriel was a difficult enough baby as it was (he’s still difficult now). Then she’d stuff them all and insist on them taking thirds or fourths when Castiel just wants to go home.

The worst part of the family dinners was that all of the family attended. His grandparents- on his mother’s side- had a bigass house, and Mom must’ve taken an incentive from them because they also had five kids. And each of those kids, thankfully, only had one or two (with the exception of Castiel's mother), so it was pretty large but not too large.

“Squirt? I’m hungry. Mom won’t start until we’re all down there.” Gabriel’s voice snaps him out of his panicking. Castiel rolls his eyes and goes down the stairs after Gabriel, who’s dramatically rubbing his stomach like he hasn’t eaten in two days instead of two hours. Maybe not even, because Gabriel’s got hidden stashes of candy everywhere.

He takes a seat at the huge table and grabs Balthazar’s and Michael’s hands so his mother can pray. Anna Milton-Novak, who is a free-spirited woman, begins to talk, but Castiel doesn’t listen, opting to think about the creepy doll collection-the one his grandmother keeps on a big bookshelf in the sitting room-his little cousin, Anael, forces him to play with every time they’re over there. She tries to get Gabriel to play, too, but he gives her a handful of candy and promises of more if she doesn’t tell.

And so Castiel is subjected to ‘makeovers’, his thick, slightly long dark hair pulled and wrangled with pink bows, creepy old dolls and their various outfits and names, and everything else Anael liked to do. It was a good thing she was also a softball player, as Castiel had several years of Little League under his belt and pretty much knew what she was talking about this time.

Then his mother mentions the Winchesters. “Lord, please help the Winchesters in their time of need. Today is the anniversary of Mary Winchester, a loving wife and mother, when she died of a fire sixteen years ago. We hope that you can help Dean and Sam, and their father, John, in this dark time.”

Castiel blanks. Their mother died? He remembers that Sam and Dean moved into town when Sam was in first grade. Castiel was the same age as Sam, and the two have been friends since Sam came to Lawrence.

Dinner passes by quickly, and Castiel locks the door to his and Gabe’s bedroom with a stomach full of his mother’s famous (if it isn’t, it should be) pot roast. Turns out, all the materials he needs are sitting in a small pile on his bed, and Castiel makes a mental note to tell his mother thank you.

Several hours (and two wonderfully done projects) later, Castiel’s tired. Like, dead-on-his-feet tired. He unlocked the door for Gabriel, but he was already asleep in the hallway, face pushed into the tan carpeting. Castiel gently picked his brother’s face up and slid a pillow under it, and pushed a blanket around his shoulders, too tired to do anything else.

He flopped onto his bed face-first, wriggling off his jeans as to get more comfortable. Honestly, he couldn’t see how people did that, just fell asleep like that, but Castiel supposed that if you were stone-cold drunk or even more tired than he was (which would be quite a feat), it was okay.

 


End file.
